A Light in the Dark: A Rogue One Spinoff
by C.S. Skywalker
Summary: Director Orson Krennic believed in what he did. He believed in the Empire. He believed his son thought the same. In the fevered hunt for the Ersos, the son of the Director of Advanced Weapons Research must find his place between the world of good and evil.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Hello everyone, this is C.S. Skywalker bringing you a Rogue One rewrite with another OC. I thought about writing this ever since I watched the movie last December, but I never got around to it, as I had a bad case of writer's block. Hope you guys enjoy it, and please leave a review -it really helps a insecure writer out, and it helps drive my motivation for the next chapters. And if you liked it enough, make sure to smash that follow/favorite button and check out my other fics, where I rewrite the new trilogy with other OCs._

 _Thanks,_

 _C.S. Skywalker_

 ** _Prologue_**

"Demoted!" His father roared as he swept his arm over his desk.

The remaining items that had been left flew off the flat surface in almost beautiful bits of chaos mixed with shards of crystal and debris.

"Orson!" His mother rushed out from behind him.

The woman clung to her husband's arm, frightened and hurt -she had never seen him like this, the man that was always so cool and collected, in such a rage like this. It frightened her to watch him change over the past few months, crazing himself over his projects and tearing Galen Erso away from his family. At times, she even wondered if he remembered that he had a family too.

"Quiet!"

The boy flinched as he watched his father slap his mother across the face. She fell limply to the ground, long brown hair covering her tearstained face.

Krennic realized his mistake. He immediately dropped to the floor next to her as she nursed her swollen, now bleeding, lip.

"Raena, my love, I apologize," he murmured, holding his silently sobbing wife.

The young boy held the doorway with his small hands, barely old enough to be in primary school, blue eyes round with panic at the sight before him. He had never seen his father hit his mother, much less shout at him as he had earlier when he had come to his father for some blue milk before bed.

His father had rarely been home as of late. He knew he had been off working on a project of his that his mother had told him about. She told him that they needed to support his busy father at a time like this. He knew his father came home late at night and he heard him tell his mother that he just needed more time, then he would be promoted, and they would live in the Emperor's good grace.

Jyn had told him the same. Her father was working with his father on the project, and she would often be alone with her mother when they weren't out exploring. They would sometimes watch holodramas like The Octave Staircase before bed together, each wondering where their own father was.

"Arsin," his name shook him out of his thoughts. Krennic waved a hand, beckoning his son to come to him.

The boy quietly tread over to his father, half fearful, half reluctant.

"Arsin, my boy," Orson smiled up at his son as the boy gazed at his grief stricken mother. "I'm going to need your help these next few years."

Arsin looked back at his father, confusion in his eyes.

"You were friends with his child, yes?"

He nodded, not understanding where this was going.

"Good," the father drew his son close. "They've left, you know."

"What?"

"Yes, Galen Erso and his family have left Coruscant. You'll never see them again."

The boy's eyes fell downward.

"If you help me, we can find them. Together," Orson whispered. The boy met his gaze. "Would you like that?"

The boy nodded.

"Good," Krennic smiled. "You're a good boy."

 _ **Four years later...**_

A dark shuttle flew almost silently in the planet Lah'mu's orbit, making it's way down to the planet's surface.

Lah'mu was a ringed agrarian planet in the Raioballo sector of the Outer Rim Territories, far from major hyperspace routes. The planet itself was lush and tranquil, dark green and brown in color. Many large mountain peaks and geysers peppered the area, in addition to volcanoes and black sand beaches.

The shuttle landed in one of these areas of black sand, a few paces away from a small, white homestead set in the valley of two mountains. From the shuttle, emerged a man wearing an all white uniform of the Empire, with his Lieutenant Commander tags shining smartly, and a gray cap. The Lieutenant Commander was followed by six tall death troopers, all in black, wielding variations of SE-14 light repeating blasters and E-11Ds.

Another man, garbed in dark clothing, long, graying hair tied in a top knot, stepped out of the homestead, and quickly walked down the hill to meet the other, stopping short.

The wind screamed around the both of them, the Lieutenant Commander's cape whipping in the wind around his body. Neither of them spoke, only watching the other.

"You're a hard man to find Galen," the man in white finally said. "But farming," he raised his hands mockingly and smiled. "Really? A man of your talents?"

"It's a peaceful life," the man named Galen replied.

"Lonely, I imagine."

Galen swallowed and his eyes went downcast. "Since Lyra died, yes."

"Oh. Oh," the man shook his head and walked closer to Galen. He sighed regretfully. "My condolences."

He shook his head once more and paused.

"Search the house!" He ordered, turning to the squad of death troopers.

Galen shifted nervously and watched as the troopers moved forward onto his homestead. He knew the man had not come only just to visit. He had purposely sought them out. Lah'mu was a remote planet, the man would have had to go through an extensive search to find them. "What is it you want?"

"The work has stalled," the opposing man answered immediately, getting right to business. "I need you to come back."

"I won't do it Krennic," Galen replied.

"We're on the verge of greatness, we were this close," Krennic held up his hand to demonstrate. "To providing peace, security for the galaxy."

"You're confusing peace with terror."

"Well, you have to start somewhere," Krennic said simply.

"My mind just isn't where it was," Galen murmered. "I have trouble remembering even the simple things."

"Galen," Krennic smirked. "You're an inspired scientist but a terrible liar."

From behind Galen, a woman came rushing from the hills behind the homestead.

"Oh look, here's Lyra, back from the dead," he said flatly. "It's a miracle."

The remaining death troopers in Krennic's squad held up their blasters, all trained on the woman.

"Stop!" Galen cried.

The woman was holding a bundle of clothing in her hands, her brown hair tied loosely behind her, and was wearing a set of light colored robes.

"Oh Lyra, troublesome as ever." Krennic had had problems with the woman earlier in his life. She was the one that convinced Galen that he needed to leave the safety of the Galactic Empire. He had never believed Galen from the start of their conversation that she had died -the woman was too tough to do so.

"You're not taking him," Lyra said.

"No, of course I'm not," Krennic looked appalled. "I'm taking you all. You'll all come -you, your child. You'll all live in comfort."

"As hostages," Lyra added.

"As _heroes_ of the Empire," Krennic corrected.

Lyra watched Krennic disbelievingly. She refused to go back to the life she had once lived as a slave to the Empire on Coruscant. She was not going to make her family go through that again.

The bundle she was carrying slipped off her hands, revealing a hidden blaster pistol in her hands that she had carried with her if the time called for it. This was certainly the moment to bring it out -it was the last time she would allow Krennic to destroy her family.

The death troopers brought up their own blasters once more, three barrels versus her one.

"Lyra," Galen said, trying to be calm. "Put it down."

"Think very carefully," Krennic said, looking hard.

Lyra paused, knowing she could not do anything, knowing that her last words would seal her fate, but she would not go down without a fight.

"You will _never_ win," she said.

"Do it," Krennic said.

"Lyra!" Galen roared.

A trooper shot Lyra in the chest and she dropped suddenly, like a doll. As Lyra fell, she managed to pull the trigger of her own blaster, landing a glancing blow on Krennic's chest. Galen caught his wife before she hit the ground, grief-stricken.

But Krennic didn't have time for that.

"They have a child," he barked, voice tight with pain. "Find it!"

 **XXX**

"Father!" A ten year old boy slipped off the medical table as he greeted Orson Krennic who rubbing his chest in pain. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine son," Krennic smiled, brushing off his son's concern. "Just a glancing blow."

"Did you fight against Rebels, father?" Arsin asked.

"Not exactly," Krennic laughed. "Do you remember Galen Erso? The man we're trying to find."

"Yes," Arsin eyes lit up as he remembered Galen's daughter, Jyn. "Did you find his family?"

"We were only able to retrieve Galen," Krennic replied.

Arsin's face fell. He thought he would be able to have a playmate once more in Jyn Erso.

"Chin up son," Krennic said. "I told you we would find them together, didn't I?

The boy nodded.

"Well it's your turn now to find Jyn," Krennic touched his son's shoulder lightly. "Do you think you could do that for me?"

He nodded with the vigor only a child could muster.

"Good. You're a good boy," Krennic murmured, thinking back to only four years ago when he spoke the exact same words.

His son had grown since then, looking more and more like his mother, and less and less like himself. His wife had told him that Arsin had his eyes, and although it was difficult for him to look past his wife's features, if he looked hard enough, he could see himself reflected in the boy's bright blue eyes. Those were the eyes of a worker, a persister. Hard work, Krennic knew, would bring any lowlife to the top. He knew it more than anyone else.

Orson Krennic would see to it that he would rise to the top of the Empire -and he would do whatever it took, even using his prized creation, his son, to get himself there.

Krennic turned to the 2-1B surgical droid that stood silently by the operating table. "How are his vitals?"

"Perfect, sir," the droid replied monotonously. "He will be in prime condition."

"Good," Krennic smiled as he looked down on his innocent, but loyal son. The boy would understand what needed to be done. The boy knew it was all for the cause. Arsin Krennic would be the key to his father's ascension, to etch their family name into the archives of the Empire forever. Orson would see to that personally.


	2. The Imperial Regime

1

The Imperial Regime

A young man, of about twenty-two sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating the black armour that hung on the wall before him.

 _No! Dad, stop no!_

He could still remember his own screams reverberating in his head. The scars from the cold, metal restraints still shone faintly on his arms and wrists. The pain was unbearable, He still remembered his father watching from the corner, allowing the torture to continue.

 _Dad! No, I don't want to do this anymore! Stop! Make them stop!_

He ran his hand through his short, brown hair, wishing the serum had erased his memories as well. His thumb stopped at the stubble on his neck -he needed a shave.

Arsin Krennic stood, his dark gray suit ironed primly, his commander insignias glinting in the dim light. Three red, three blue. Facing the bed stand that stood against the wall, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a razor and towel. He then placed the razor on the flat surface of the drawer, and wrapped the towel around his neck so as not to wet the uniform. Reaching into the sink beside him, he turned the tap on to a steady flow, and splashed a few drops onto his neck. He then took the shaving cream that rested against the mirror and placed a generous amount in his hand, rubbing it onto the offending areas. The younger Krennic then picked up the blade and began cutting the stubble on his face as he watched himself in the mirror. He found it to be soothing, in a way. The man could concentrate on the way the knife felt on his face, cutting the sharp hairs that he knew could grow into a bristly beard if he allowed it. Shaving didn't require him to think about his position in the Empire, nor his father.

He paused, the blade glistening with water and diluted cream as his father's eyes stared back at him in the mirror.

Most of all, he didn't have to think about Jyn.

Arsin hissed as the knife caught on his jawline after a sudden jerk of his hand.

Jyn _Erso_. he corrected himself as he grimaced and tossed the bloodied knife into the sink, nursing the nick on his neck with the towel, checking to see if the cut was large enough to spot.

Satisfied that he didn't need a medical droid to cover his mistake, he wiped the rest of the shaving cream off with the now spotted and damp towel, and threw that over the rest in the sink as well. He'd leave this mess for the cleaning droid that came in later.

His commlink buzzed.

"Commander Krennic," an annoyed older man's voice. "Do I have to ask one more time for you to come up to the control station?"

"No Director," he quickly answered, giving the black armour that hung upon his wall one more glance. "I will be right there."

The name of Krennic was well known throughout the Destroyer. They feared the elder Krennic as much as they feared the second. Both were known for their sharp tongues and their strong regard for order and power. With his trim undercut and olive skin, many disregarded Arsin Krennic for a normal commander. However, once they felt the cold blue eyes of a Krennic down their backs, they knew who they were dealing with.

That was the case with this particular captain. The man standing next to him gave him a brief nod before returning to his previous resting position. A few moments of silence followed as Arsin waited for the captain's reaction.

It came later than he had expected.

The man gave a sudden start as he gazed up into the younger Krennic's towering, imposing form, and Arsin could swear he could almost see the small beads of sweat forming on the captain's upper lip. The lateness of the address was bound to have its effect on the captain sooner or later.

"Commander Krennic, sir." The man bobbed back and forth, unsure of whether or not to bow, or give a salute to the commodore.

"At ease, captain," Arsin sighed. Almost all the officers on the Destroyer expected him to treat them the same as Orson Krennic. He was not his after.

The elevator stopped, and the stricken captain got out, gave a quick salute to his commodore, and rushed away. Arsin rested casually on the railing of the elevator as he slowly rose higher. None on this starship saw him as he wished them to. He was a Krennic, cold and brutal. Nothing more. His name was his quota, and he was expected to fill it.

The elevator door slid seamlessly open again once more, and the tall man stepped out. A hiss, and he was alone in a dark hallway, the only light coming from the control room which was his father's throne. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the light, and was immediately bombarded with noise.

Bleeping, clicks, hushed voices and barked out commands -this was the place the young man was most unfamiliar, and uncomfortable with. Having been trained out in the front lines of the Empire, Arsin Krennic never had had a taste for this line of work. That was his father's calling in life.

"Commander."

Arsin became brusque as he removed his cap, all business now. "Yes, Director."

He avoided eye contact with the white caped man who always had had a flair for the theatrics. It had been sometime since he had called the man 'Father' and the name stuck in his throat -Director sounded much more fitting.

"What took you so long to get up here?" Orson Krennic eyed his son carefully.

The boy had grown much in his prime. He was one of his best soldiers, one of Orson's Deathtroopers -an elite group of genetically modified super soldiers created from a project out of the depths of the older Krennic's mind. The Empire had successfully made the super soldier out of already full-grown clones, but somehow, the troopers were lacking in human skill and cunning. That was where Krennic's young son, Arsin had come into play. The cardinal, successful human child prototype, the first before many.

"I needed a shave," the younger Krennic replied, glancing at his father's almost identical blue eyes.

"Is that an excuse I hear?"

"Not an excuse," Arsin raised his head. "Merely following a soldier's protocol -a military man must always be clean shaven."

"That you are right, son," Krennic replied, after giving his son a close look.

The director turned abruptly on his heel towards the control panel, his white cape sweeping the floor after him.

"Do you remember Galen Erso?" he questioned.

"The engineer working on the Death Star?" Arsin asked, his mind scrambling.

 _Jyn._

"The very same," Orson turned, a grim smile on his face. "We've received reports of a girl, scrambling about on the Outer Rim. A woman by the same description caused quite some trouble for us on the Anoat system, and between the Mid Rim. We suppose that that girl is his daughter-"

"Jyn Erso," Arsin finished.

"Good," Orson said. "So, you do remember her."

"We were playmates once," Arsin said, now avoiding his father's close gaze. "Of course, I remember her."

There was a slight pause as Orson contemplated his son. They had been searching dozens of star systems for the girl, yes. But the quickness of Arsin's reply worried the director. Had his son somehow develop a soft spot for the girl?

The older man shook his head. No, it couldn't be. His son was the elite of the elite, the cream of the crop. Any son of Krennic would see to it that the job was to be done, and Arsin was doing exactly was his father had ordered him to do some ten years back. The son would always follow the father.

"Take the Death Squad and set your course for Skuhl. Find the girl and bring her to me."

"Yes, Director," Arsin replied with a respectful nod, before placing his cap back on to his head and turned abruptly, heading towards the lower hanger as the white caped director watched closely after him.

After rounding the corner and passing several squads of Stormtroopers, Arsin raised the small comlink attached to his wrist as his made his way down the flight of stairs towards the lower hangars where his TIE was parked, awaiting his orders.

"Zeak, Kendall, and Grace, I want you three on me now. Aayla, Kymber, Gavyn and Titus, follow us into orbit, but only engage on my command," Arsin said into the comlink.

"Roger that," six young voices replied back in unison.

"You've got it, Black Commander," a playful young man's voice followed after the rest.

"Gavyn, I can't have you messing around this time," Arsin growled as he slipped into his pilot's outfit. "I need you to be focused on this mission."

"When am I ever unfocused?" came the reply.

"Almost all the time," the Black Commander said as he saw his squad appear on the horizon.

Gavyn Sol, Black Seven was Arsin's sniper, his eyes and ears. The young man bounced into view with his brown hair styled in a customary quiff, and dancing blue eyes. When he wasn't focused on the job, however, Gavyn was a handful of trouble. It was nice when he brought humor into the group -most of the Death Squad were stony faced super soldiers- but Gavyn didn't know when to stop. Arsin's riskiest missions became his riskiest because of the reckless sniper.

Zeak was Black Eight, his most trusted specialist. When it came to hack a system, or rewiring of security, that was where Zeak Spiuar came into play. He was the smallest out of all of them, and the scrawniest, but his brains made up for his lack of brawn. Arsin watched as he timidly placed the black pilot's helmet on his head, covering his sandy blond hair and young, freckled features, and wished to God that it would be easier to talk to him this time around on the new mission.

Grace Starlight was second in command only to Arsin, Black Two. His strength and power were equaled by her quickness and her cunning. Together in battle, they were unstoppable. Her striking red hair was tied in its regular long ponytail -she had never gotten to cutting it all off like Aayla had. It was something that Arsin liked about her, a feminine quality that she chose to reveal about herself. Flashing green eyes met his, and he could tell that she knew he was unnerved.

"What's it this time, Arsin?" she drew close to him. "I know you've got daddy issues, but this one's different, I can tell."

"Oh, you can, can you?" Arsin playfully teased.

"We've known each other for years, trained in the academy together," she gave him a coy look. "I think I have full rights to say that I know you well."

He smiled and flicked the switches on her starship, prepping the TIE for flight.

"It's Jyn Erso."

Grace looked taken aback. "They've caught her, finally?"

"Not sure yet," Arsin turned to look at her, helmet in hand. "Just be prepared for this one, alright?"

She nodded. "On your command."

Arsin gave a brief look towards his heavies, Kendall and Titus Doneta, Black Five and Six. The pair were twins, with closely cropped brown hair and dark hazel eyes to match. They loomed over Arsin like a pair of Kindalo from the planet Aleen. The men gave a respectful grunt and nod over at the young Krennic, which he returned in favor. There was a mutual understanding between the Black Commander and the Doneta Twins, which included almost no words between the three of them, save orders.

The final two, Aayla and Kymber were both the monkeys of the group, the odd men out, but they could handle their own like no other. Aayla Xergo, Black Four, was the trickiest, and smartest -save Zeak- of them all. Aayla could get into places where none of them could. Small, but quick and flexible, she was able to climb into any vent or shaft to place any gadget that the mechanic Kymber Terrek, Black Three had made. Kymber's smoke bombs were so thick that almost no system could detect them, and the flash grenades were the worst. Aayla's elvish features peeked out from under her short black hair as she gave the commander an impish look with her steel grey eyes as she hung on her TIE Fighter that Kymber was working on, only long legs visible from underneath.

Arsin made his way to his jet-black TIE Interceptor, the fastest ship that they had in the squad. Sliding into the familiar black leather seats of his ship, he checked the back to make sure that the signature black chrome armour of the Deathtrooper was placed in his passenger seat. The commander slammed the uncomfortable flight helmet onto his head, and through the red lens of helmet, he saw read the vitals of the rest of the squad and their ships -all in prime condition.

"Death Squadron, suit up," he commanded, set on the mission at hand. "We're going into a highly congested zone, I need you to be on alert."

"Where're we headed to, Commander?" Kymber's voice crackled onto the comlink.

"Set your coordinates for Skuhl. A woman of much importance to the Director is currently harbored at the planet," Arsin sent Jyn's information out to the others. "Gav, I need you to be on your best behavior, we can't mess this up."

"All due respect Commander," Gavyn said in a quiet tone that Arsin had never heard before. "This is Jyn Erso, isn't it?"

"Well yes," Arsin replied, confused.

"Your childhood friend."

Arsin shifted in his seat. "That was in the past. I serve the Empire now."

"Yes Commander."

Arsin flicked the switches and felt the Interceptor float above the hangar ground. "Death Squadron, to me."

From a distance, Orson Krennic watched at the seven TIE Fighters shot out from the underground hangar, the TIE Interceptor in the lead. The eight small ships were puny in comparison to the Death Star which overshadowed the Star Destroyers in its same orbit. He smiled slightly. The mission to Skuhl was an almost suicidal one. Many troopers had been lost on that planet, that of which was crawling with traitors and Rebel scum.

Krennic turned.

If the Death Squadron failed, which he did not perceive, then it would be a most unfortunate loss. If they succeeded, in which Krennic believed they would, he would have in his hands, the daughter of the most powerful mechanic in the world.

And that meant more to him than the preservation of his son's life.


End file.
